


Sunkissed

by manicpixiememeking



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, F/F, F/M, M/M, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicpixiememeking/pseuds/manicpixiememeking
Summary: I just really wanna write about my ocs man
Relationships: azar/yuri, celestia/amelie
Kudos: 1





	1. A way to kill the sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wowowow

Cinder is a singer.

Let's just get that clear.

A quite popular one if he may add,

It isn't particularly the lavish life that he partially expected when he stepped into the demanding industry. More or less. It is, in fact, filled to the absolute brim with fancy gala events and somewhat pushy interviews. With just the smallest dash of self deprivation.

But at the same time, it's exhilarating. 

It's the feeling of hitting that high C on nothing but pure adrenaline as the crowd around him jumps on the time of the beat. The vibrations in the air as the speakers blare his songs in an open stadium, the sound of bass undertoning the sharp electric guitar he would hold in his hands. 

Cinder is a singer, yes. But he is first and foremost an entertainer. 

Sometimes the late night shows and overenthusiastic hosts may push his buttons at times. Or the stuffy events that his agency makes him attend for the sake of 'connection building' is just a facadè hidden behind lip tight smiles and false promises. The industry is dangerous.

It's dangerous in the way that stalkers and death threats are. It's dangerous in the way that's detrimental to mental health and internal ambitions. Cinder is aware of this, he knows that the fame will only bring him a downward amount of anything. Cinder is aware of the consequences of being a world wide known musician. He knows that it can start and ultimately break relationships.

Azar is also aware of that.

And Cinder and Azar-- are very different people.

"Nice work on the show with Jimmy Kimmel yesterday." His manager and long time friend, Nick says happily.

Azar groans when he sees him in the hallway of his penthouse apartment. His eyes want to immediately glare at the sight of it. He forces himself not to though, maybe it's the fact that glaring at your agent is not a good move when they literally control your career, or maybe it's the fact that Nick is too much of a good person who doesn't deserve to deal with azar's constant bullshit.

"Why did I even do that? The man literally has 3 previous interviews with me already." He spits out. Oh poor him with his celebrity woes of being on a famous international talk show, how pretentious he sounds to anyone who doesn't know him.

Nick scoffs good naturedly. He takes up a seat by the breakfast bar. "New Album, new interview. That's just how it works." He waves his hand dismissively in the air. azar's scowl soon fades as he offers Nick a cup of coffee. He turns to his coffee compress by the end of the breakfast bar and starts loading it up with grinded powder. They don't want to repeat the alcohol accident back at the Grammys.

Nick watches eagerly as the water boils inside the compress, a tranquil smile crossing his soft and gentle features. He hums a small tune, whilst kicking his legs under the stool. He'd be mistaken for a teenager with an attitude of a toddler if it wasn't for the fact that everybody around them knew he's at least 5 years older than Azar.

"Anyhow, how's the track coming along? We'd be giving Jimmy Kimmel a field day when it's done. You know we have to meet your fan's demands." Nick asks. His eyes don't even meet Azar's, stead they linger on the abandoned keyboard and littered papers in his living room with a solemn look. 

Ah yes, his very demanding fans indeed. Jimmy Kimmel included.

The look on Nick. his face is nothing less than sympathetic. Azar almost drops his annoyed act. He can't stay mad at Nick when he's the most supportive and kindest person in his career. Azar knows that he's only asking for the sake of his career and wellbeing. And the scattered papers in his living and the dark purplish bags under his eyes are a clear indication that his well being is sleep deprived .

"If it means another sitting on his absurdly uncomfortable couch then I rather not release it at all." He scoffs halfheartedly, hoping to change the topic. 

This time, Nick spares him a quick glance. "I'll file a complaint to the show about their taste in furniture if you're so angered by it. But I also need something to give the producer some semblance of an album or they'll think my agent is incompetent." 

Azar laughs at that. "I can already see the headlines, Nick." He gasps overdramatically and leans on the counter with a hand pressed against his forehead. "Famous singer, Cinder, gets sold off by a record deal for being lazy. "

Nick grimaces. "As if I'm not used to getting rid of terrible headlines of you by now anyways." He laughs.

Then, his soft features stiffen, his look morphs into a stern parent whose about to reprimand their child. Well atleast that's what Azar feels at the moment as he's being stared down by Nick. 

"I didn't mean to sugar coat it, Azar. You do need to finish this track for the album. The record has been hyping it up so much by now, you can't disappoint." He says gravely. 

Azar, after hearing that, drops his joking act. The mood had now grown sullen, with the sudden presence of an deadline looming over them darkly. A pregnant pause fills the silence heavily. With Nick, still focused on the coffee press and Azar, eyes erratically scanning the crumpled pieces of paper by the living room. The weight of last night's brainstorming finally took its toll on him by the sudden weight that is being pushed down on his eyelids. 

The sudden ding of the water heater is the only thing that brings him back from the sweet temptation of sleep. He more or less, sways over to the end of the counter and pours two glasses of steaming black liquid into two mugs. He also takes a little packet of creamer and sugar with him because God forsake him if he forgot that Nick hates anything bitter. His attitude on work related events being one of them.

He hands the steaming cup to Nick who takes it happily. He says a rushed 'thanks' before blowing away the curling tendrils of heat that arise from the liquid. He takes a sip and practically moans in pleasure. 

"You know what, maybe the coffee compressor wasn't such a bad spontaneous buy after all." He announces in between sips of coffee. Azar rolls his eyes.

"I told you so!" He proclaims with a proud tone. Nick chuckles softly.

Azar pulls his chair back and starts to make his way around the counter. "Thanks for the visit Nick. I gotta work now." He says, not even bothering to look behind him as he says goodbye.

Azar takes a sip of his coffee as he walks to his living room, the taste embeds itself on his tongue,black and bitter. The searing heat immediately grounds him back to reality. He takes a few more tentative gulps, before trekking over the threshold of his apartment to the living room. Attempting not to step on any of the discarded papers on the ground unless one of them had a half decent idea he could use. Desperate times call for desperate measures he thinks.

He collapses down on his sofa. He hates how invitingly warm and comfortable is. It's almost like it's alluring him to rest his head on its frames and rest. Just one long blink and he would drift off into a well deserved slumber--

No. He aggressively shakes his head, slapping his cheeks repeatedly in an attempt to battle his want to collapse onto the couch. It takes at least a minute for the coffee to get into his system and send his mind into overdrive. He needs to do this. He has to do this. He tells himself.

With that, he grabs a random sheet of paper and sets it beside his keyboard. The keys sink beneath the weight of his fingers. Slender, nimble and trained hands start to conjure melodies. Symphonies that drift and wraft the room in their euphoric sounds. Notes and chord progressions start and end in measures as it slowly and slowly builds frustration.

To anyone, what they're hearing is just piano.

And Azar doesn't want that.

It's-- lacking.

He tries again, abruptly ending the progression he was just playing in a sour clang of keys. He then plays another tune, then another, then another-- a loop begins the form. Lovely melodies instantly cut short by his innate will to create something more. The notes seem so dull and lifeless, just a string of chords pulled together to form a mismatched array of sounds. They don't sound pleasing, well, atleast not to Azar. Someone who constantly seeks more.

The musical tones immediately turn sour. Uncoordinated and wild, almost like a banshee's scream for help. 

He doesn't want his music to be just another work of piano and pop.

He wants more.

"We can't do this anymore, Azar. I'll still love you, i-its just--"

Woah.

Why did that come up?

"Maybe you should take a break, Azar." Nick says gently. Breaking Azar out of his moment of shock.

His hand rests itself on Azar's shoulder in silent reassurance. Azar doesn't even notice it, he thought Nick left the moment earlier after drinking the coffee he gave.

When did he get so distant with his surroundings?

"I have to finish this--" 

"You can finish it another day. I can see how tired you are." Nick's hand squeezes his shoulder firmly, as if trying to ground him back to reality. Azar wasn't even aware that his fingers were shaking so intensely before he reached for one of the discarded papers on his keyboard, before dropping it half way.

Nick looks at the discarded paper with a sad expression.

"Maybe you should sleep?" He asks tentatively.

Azar shakes his head vigorously, ashen blonde hair falling over his eyes. "No. I--I don't feel like it." 

When he says he doesn't feel it, he actually means that the anticipated tweets and comments by his fans are permanently engraved into the back of his eyelids. Constantly making him think that the time he uses sleeping, could instead be used to satisfy his fan's requests. Even if he did manage to get a wink of sleep, the guilt and workload would drown him and push him towards the thin line that is his sanity.

And Nick-- Azar wonders what he did to deserve such a caring friend, and even better manager. Nick can see the well hidden intentions Azar holds so guarded. He is also kind enough not to mention it, stead prompting to smile kindly and pick up the discarded paper on the floor and set it neatly on top of his keyboard.

"How about I make you breakfast?" 

Azar is a thousand times thankful for Nick.

By the time Nick is done frying some simple eggs. Azar is on the verge of flipping his keyboard over in anger. Luckily Nick calls him over to eat and the keyboard is spared another day. 

Azar lazily moves his body to the kitchen. His nose is instantly greeted by the warm aroma of butter and eggs. Along with the fruity smell of orange juice. Nick sits there, arms crossed and a proud grin on his face. Azar immediately digs into the perfectly cooked and buttered eggs and moans in ecstasy when they enter his mouth. 

They sit in a comfortable silence. Azar basically licks his plate clean and Nick's eyes downcasted, as if in deep thought. 

Even when Azar finished his plate and put it in the dishwasher, Nick still remained silent. Alarmingly so, normally he would ask if Azar still wanted seconds, or even cook him lunch for later. Now Azar was concerned by how quiet his friend was.

"Alright dude, spit it out." He announces loudly. Nick snaps his head at the sudden sound. His eyes are shockingly guilty.

"It's nothing." He says primly, biting his lip.

Azar rolls his eyes and continues to hold his statement. Arms crossed and posture straight. "It's definitely not nothing."

There's a tense quietness that lingers between them. With Nick looking terribly ashamed and Azar just awfully concerned.

Then, Nick lets it out. "Your fans are asking for an Event Horizon reunion." 

Azar's breath hitches. His body immediately tenses at the name. Mouth quivering for a response.

"I just can't handle everything-- everyone. Watching us!--"

Damn.

Why are all these thoughts coming back now ?

"When are they not? It's not that bad then?" He says through gritted teeth. His hands curling up into fists, nails penetrating his skin. 

Nick's expression turns crestfallen. Eyes absolutely bleeding regret.

"Yuri mentioned on instagram live about seeing Amelie for a reunion." 

Azar feels like the world just stopped moving.

Nick doesn't seem to notice the absolutely petrified look on Azar's face though. He continues.

"Twitter is on fire because of that. Someone made the assumption that you were also coming and that it was a whole reunion! They think that you guys will write a new album together." Nick stammers, he looks equally panicked about the situation.

Azar laughs bitterly. "That's it? It's like they forgot why we split in the first place."

Nick's horrid expression grows into one of confusion. Like he knew something Azar didn't.

"Wait-- have you not checked Twitter?" He all but yells. He abruptly stands from the counter chair and it makes a loud sound as it falls behind him.

Azar's arm winces, he prays that it didn't crack his tiles.

"No? I was busy writing tracks." He claims it's the easiest thing in the world.

Nick quickly closes his mouth. 

"Why? What's happening?" He asks incredulously. Fear rising within him. How terrible could it be if Nick didn't want to tell him?

He quickly dashed to his bedroom across the penthouse. Almost slipping on the marble tiles while doing so. Slamming the door of his bedroom, he scrambles to his bed and clamors for his phone. 

When he finds it buried under some sheets like some hidden treasure, Nick is already standing by the doorframe looking extremely worried. 

With somewhat shaky hands, he opens his phone. He's almost instantly greeted by a spam of twitter mentions and dm's asking if he was ok. One notable thing is almost the dozen missed calls from Amelie, his old friend and bandmate.

He opens twitter and the first thing he sees is a shit ton of mentions and tags.

Yumaid | @yumaid_art 1hr ago

I just got on twitter and oml the tea is incredible today @Cinder

FA1TH| @hunnytuber 20hr ago

@Cinder hasn't tweeted about it yet, he's either dead or over it

Fei| @Cinderinators 21h ago

Guys,,, stop tagging Cinder. Its obvious he doesn't want to see it!! @Cinder, @hunnytuber

Now he's really concerned. 

He opens one of the dm's he has from Kevin. A fellow musician and close buddy from when they were first started in the industry. His last text was over 7 hours ago. 

Kevin: hey dude just checkin in, u alright?

Whatever is happening must really be a colossal mess if Kevin is concerned, one of the chillest people he's ever met.

Cinder: yea im ok? Wtf is happening?

Kevin replies almost instantly.

Kevin: wait. U haven't seen the tweets?

Cinder: everyone seems to be mentioning it. I passed out before i could read anything.

The text bubble beside Kevin's icon appears and reappears again and again for what seems like hours. 

Azar is chewing his nails. A habit that he thought he killed when he had stage fright back in his old band days. Now it seems to have resurfaced just now.

Kevin sent 3 images.

Azar instantly clicks on the photos.

Yuri ✔| @yuri_bedtime 22h ago

@korraalt stop you're making me blush 😳

Azar almost chokes when he sees it.

Korra ✔| @korraalt 23h ago

Help im simping for someone bigger than me

Korra ✔| @korraalt 23h ago

GUYS STOP @TING HIM OMG

Korra ✔| @korraalt 23h ago

How can a man be so cute?

Yuri ✔ | @yuri_bedtime 23h ago

right back at you

Korra ✔| @korraalt 23h ago

UHM HI?? PLS DONT MIND THE OTHER TWEETS

There's a long silence for a while. With Azar just staring blankly on the phone, with the tweets displayed on top. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nick approaching him slowly.

"I didn't want you to see it, especially in this state." Nick winces at his choice of words. Azar doesn't even look at him however, his eyes just glass over as he stares at Yuri's latest tweet.

"The reason nobody's mentioning you in the reunion…" he says slowly, like he was treading over a bomb that was about to explode in any given second. "Is because they're all too busy with the fact Yuri is flirting with another celebrity."

Azar doesn't respond.

He can't think right now.

He doesn't even notice he's crying until his tears hit the screen.


	2. party time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theres a party

"What the fuck ." 

There's something funny in Azar's misery. Or atleast-- that's whatever some sick god thinks when they destroy his emotions. He must be fun to be toyed with, because they seem to constantly make his life worse. Azar may not believe in that god, but he sure wishes they could stop being such a bag of dicks to him.

"Azar, dude. You need to calm down." Amelie's chiding, electronically toned voice crackled through the phone he was holding. 

"Azar, breathe. You're doing it again." Her tone is concerned, almost alarmingly panicked. "Hey, come on. Focus on my voice." 

Amelie's comforting tone is the only thing that can make it through the haze of white noise that clogs his ears like water. He feels like he's drowning, with the ever increasing weight of the bottomless ocean on his chest. As tears pour out from his eyes in metaphorical waterfalls. 

"It's not you! I-it's them! It's always been them! Why do you always blame yourself--" 

Make it stop. The voice inside his head roars. He doesn't want to remember. 

"Deep breath in, long breath out." Amelie says, breaking the long forgotten memory. "Just keep listening to me."

And he tries. It feels like hours until he can form a half decent sentence. Even then, his throat feels sore from how much he's been clawing it. Words seem to be stuck in the back of his tongue. Amelie stays with him patiently through the phone. Whispering words of encouragement and support as Azar slowly picks himself up. 

"Am-Amelie?" He asks, it's broken and hoarse. He instantly cringes at how bad it sounds, even for a singer his caliber. 

She responds almost instantly. "Yeah? What do you need?" 

The guilt is almost unbearable to Azar. The fact that he cried his heart out to his former band mate on call is embarrassing enough. But the kindness and sympathy that leaks from his words makes Azar feel unworthy. Ever since the start, when Amelie told Azar she wanted to start a band, ever since their rise to the top of the charts and their eventual downfall, she still, undoubtedly treats Azar like a real person in such a fake industry.

He's unbearably guilty.

"I-- I'm sorry, Amelie." He uses her real name, not her stage name, in an uncertain way of being serious.

Amelie chuckles at that. "No need to be sorry. I was really worried when you weren't responding to my calls at first." 

Azar manages a weak, reassuring laugh. He slowly gets up from his cross legged position on his bedroom floor. He doesn't even remember how his knees buckled under the pressure at first, how his tears clouded his vision. He doesn't even remember how his fingers shakily dialed Amelie's number in the haze of hysteria and disbelief.

"No, but seriously," she says gently, almost as if to cushion the hard news she was about to drop. "You seem to have reacted pretty-- violently to all of that." 

'All of that' is his old friend's polite term of labeling his messy breakdown. Azar's body flinches at the way he puts it, almost like he's ashamed of it.

"No need to hide it Amelie." His tone is cold and hard, said through gritted teeth. "It's all out now. Just say what you want to say." He hisses.

Amelie is quiet for a beat, collecting the words he plans to say. Finding a way to phrase it in a way that Azar can take.

And when she does,

"You really aren't over Yuri, are you?"

It hurts Azar to know that she phrased it like a question. That he needed to give Amelie an answer that he himself has not found. It's as if he hasn't asked himself the same thing over and over again on multiple sleepless nights on end. His brain can't supply him or his friend an answer. 

"I-- I don't know…" he says hesitantly. It comes out soft and barely incomprehensible, he doubts that Amelie even hears it.

And to his surprise, she does. "I wouldn't judge you if you don't know yourself." She says in a playfully light tone. "You're not one to really think things through. Or think at all really."

That causes a genuine laugh out of Azar. "Shut up." 

A string of laughter bubbles between the phone lines. It feels almost nostalgic to Azar. To be laughing with a friend he thought he lost years ago because of circumstances. It feels like a small part of him has been found again.

"But really, you shouldn't be hung up over all of this." 

Amelie's right, he really shouldn't be hung up on someone he lost a long time ago. It's just pathetic really. He's pathetic.

But he gives in.

"Hey, Amy. Can I ask you something?" He asks tentatively, nervously fiddling with the hem of the shirt he's wearing as he painstakingly waits for Amelie's reply.

Amelie hums as a response. "Shoot."

Azar sucks in a breath, "Who's the girl he's talking to?" 

Amelie doesn't reply for a moment, and it makes Azar almost shit himself. He always knew that Amelie was closer to Yuri than he was. He was most likely overstepping his boundaries by asking such an insensitive question. And besides that, it basically confirmed Amelie's original question. Now that he thought about it more, was he ever even over--

"Her name's Korra. An up and coming rap artist who's single 'drum the drum' blew up a few months back." She states with a neutrally monotonous voice. Azar's eyes widen.

Something wretched and ugly stirs in the bottom of his stomach. It's an unfamiliar feeling, yet, it feels absolutely terrible. It floods Azar's thoughts like a storm, an up and coming rap artist? Has Yuri's standards dropped after everything? How special could she be if Yuri took interest in her? 

It's as if the thought of Yuri smiling next to a beautiful girl is like lead poison to him. Eroding and deadly. 

A wave of bitterness washed over him. Yuri and her were flirting, online. For the prying eyes of the media to see and dissect. It's as if he didn't even care one bit for who saw, like he didn't care if Azar saw. 

"Why does everyone have to watch me when I just want it to be you? I don't want eyes to be on us--"

He claps a hand over his ear in a poor attempt to block out the resurfacing memories that he thought his brain had long repressed for the sake of not hurting anymore. 

Apparently it's different with her.

That made the ugly feeling inside him burst and boil and fill him with such excruciating anger. The reason why it all ended in the first place, with the cameras constantly staring him down and following them. The overbearing thought of knowing that every single detail of their private life would be shown. It's not ok with Azar, but it's ok with Korra?--

Oh.

"I don't know much about it, Yuri is oddly secretive about her. They text though, a concerning amount." Amelie adds.

It's like gasoline to a raging fire. Azar's hand unconsciously tightens into a flaming fist, his other almost squeezes his phone so tightly that the screen threatens to break. The feeling in his stomach flares, it festers and churns like a forest fire. Eating up every word Amelie says and growing with each one. It's utterly degrading and disgusting. 

He's jealous. 

More and more he's finding out the answer to the question he couldn't answer before.

"Hey don't worry about it! And by the way," Amelie interjects his wandering train of thought. Azar almost instantly snaps out of his fit of momentary anger. It's incredibly thoughtful for the bassist to notice Azar's bitterness and stead, prompt to change the topic. 

"Are you going to be attending the MTV's?" Amelie coaxed 

Azar raises his eyebrow. "Yeah, Nick would have my head if I didn't." Amelie chuckles at the mention of their former band manager's name. She quickly brushes it off however and inquires more.

"No no, like the after party?" He continues. Azar stops at his slow pace to the kitchen. He hadn't even thought of the after party.

It's not like grand events like the MTV's had bad after parties per se. As much as he doesn't like to admit it, the big important parties for important people aren't his specialty. You think after being in the music industry you'd be used to the constant watch of thousands of eyes. Well, not Azar. He still gets awkward and tense whenever another big shot celebrity approaches him with the intention of small talk. That doesn't put aside the other fact that he is an extrovert, just a terrible mediator.

"Do I have to?" He tries not to groan too loudly for Amelie's sake. After everything going on, the last thing he would want to do is be bombarded with the media. 

"But dude!" Amelie all but yells. "Everyone is gonna be there! Celestia, Kye, Ham-- wait no actually I hope not Ham. Even Brooke!" His friend says enthusiastically through the phone. His excitement and enthusiasm are so infectious that it causes a small smile on Azar's face.

"That's nice dude." He says dismissively. He re-enters his barren kitchen. It was about 2-3 pm in Texas for Azar. He pulled open his fridge to see the kindly made lunch that Nick prepared him earlier. 

"Hell yeah, it's nice! We haven't seen them in so long!" Azar turns to the microwave and shoves the food inside, cranking the knob to a minute. He's only half-listening to Amelie at this point. "C'mon Azar, Nathaniel, and Angel too!" 

"Amelie I don't really--"

Amelie starts to ramble, something she does when she's invested into something. "Owen, Darf, Gina, Thalia, Jonas, Liz, Robbie, Lyn, Kiyo--"

The more names she lists off the more Azar gets concerned by how much Amelie wants him to attend. It feels as if the burning passion in his friend's voice is almost drowning out the conflict in him. 

"Amelie, chill--"

"Heck! Even Yuri will be there!" 

For a moment, the only sound is the microwave's electronic buzzing as it heats Azar's lunch. 

Amelie quickly sputters. Her words come out so fast that they begin to slur. 

"No no no no no! I mean, maybe he won't be there? I know that he probably is very busy and-- hey look, Azar, I just want us all to be together again and--"

"Amy." He says flatly, his voice devoid of all emotion. 

He can practically hear Amelie take in one of the sharpest breaths on the other end of the line. 

Yuri is going to be there.

"I'll see you at the after-party."

♡

There’s a saying that Azar has stuck to throughout his entire career religiously. It’s been used as a warning sign for bad omens that have trailed him, and as a reminder for him to remember when making decisions.

‘ You are never safe in the eye of the storm.’

He may be very illiterate at times, he very much doesn’t get the gist of poetry, or those weirdly cliche Pinterest quotes that his little sister sends him. But when he first heard it, it resonated something within him. 

In the literal and figurative sense, the eye of the storm is a place of momentary comfort, a haven where you know nothing will harm you. It’s that feeling of momentary serenity that causes ignorant bliss when in reality; the cyclone that surrounds you with its deadly winds and vicious hail will rip you apart. But how will you ever know what lies beyond the storm if you stay in its comfort? The vast world beyond will stay unexplored if so. You are never safe in the eye of the storm.

“Congratulations on winning Best Artist, New Artist, and Song of the Summer!” Nick cheers happily while ushering him into the limo. Azar is taken aback at the sudden pat on the back Nick gives him while he watches relentless hoards of paparazzi that clamor at the exit doors like a pack of feral animals.

Azar tries not to buckle under the praise his manager showers him in. “Solaria won half of them though…” He mutters the name of his rival in a low hum. Solaria, one of the stupidest stage names you could have chosen honestly, he thinks. Always finding a way to challenge him whenever they’re in any sort of event. 

Nick huffs a dramatic gasp, “Solaria may have won all the music video awards, but the guest audience adored you!”

Azar sends an uncertain look to the ever-growing mob of paparazzi at the doors, with their flashing lights and stuffy microphones that they’ll eventually shove into Azar’s face. “Then maybe they should be swarming Solaria then.” He points a finger to the crowd.

Nick’s expression turns crestfallen. His gaze diverts to the masses of people, and then to Azar. He looks to be picking his words quite carefully by the way his brow furrows in deep thought. 

“Don’t say a word, okay?” Nick asks with pleading eyes. Azar doesn’t even consider saying no.

He nods sullenly, preparing himself to be surrounded with the flash of artificial light and ear ringing shouts. It’ll get easier one day, but for now, he just has to suck it up and wear that celebrity worn smile that strains his cheeks every time.

As soon as they exit the doors, Azar is blinded by a bright flash of blinding light. He raises a hand to his face, to shield himself by not just the oncoming shudders of cameras, but also to hide an annoyed expression. He has to look happy, like a man who had just won two of the biggest awards of the event. Fake it till he makes it.

That’s until the questions come up.

“Cinder! What was it like winning Best and New artist?!”

“Cinder! Are you jealous of Solaria for stealing the best choreography award?”

“Cinder! Over here! When’s the album releasing!”

He’s learned over the years how to block out the questions he doesn’t want to hear. A skill of his he prides himself quite on a bit. With his selective hearing, he can tune out the sounds of Nick telling people to put down their cameras, the bodyguards around him asking the paparazzi to move and their objective shouting.

“Cinder! What do you have to say about your unnamed album?!”

“Cinder! Please over here! Have you seen the recent tweets with Korra?”

The crowd grows wilder and more rambunctious, but they're almost to the car, just a bit further--

“What do you think about Yuri and Korra’s relationship, Cinder?!”

He stops in the middle of the sea of photographers and journalists. His eyes instantly try to locate where he heard that question from. Around him, the crowd goes ballistic, the continuous shuddering of the camera almost drowns out the shouts of his manager trying to call him to the car.

Who said that?

“Azar! What the hell-- you idiot! Hurry up!” Nick cries out, his hand quickly grabbing onto Azar’s wrist so he doesn't get swamped by the masses. 

Azar instantly breaks out of the lucid state when he sees the terror in Nick’s eye. He gives his head a shake, trying to clear his conscience before Nick inevitably shoves him into the passenger seat of the limousine. The paparazzi immediately surround the car, their phones and gaudy photography equipment flashing incessantly as the door closes in front of them. The moment the car door closes, and the driver rams the engine on, relief instantly sinks into him. 

He already knows that they’ll have pictures of his shocked face, he already knows that it’ll stir stories and assumptions, and if he’s lucky, end up on some top show tabloid.

“Ok Mister, what happened back there?” Nick asks, his tone isn’t one of an angry manager like he should be, instead, he just looks like an overly concerned puppy. 

Azar is for a lack of words. “I-I don’t know…” he says lamely. He half expects Nick to sigh disappointingly and push further on, but it seems that Nick is breaking all of his expectations today.

“It's alright.” Is all he says, with a strangely empathetic expression. He slowly backs down and reclines into the plush leather of the car seat, scarily calm.

There’s a wavering silence between them as the car moves along to their destination. With Azar, idly watching the cars drive by one the street, and Nick, simply on his phone. 

Until Nick breaks it.

“Every single event before this, you always turned down the after-party. Why now?”

Azar’s gaze breaks with the windows, and stead makes its way to Nick who’s still innocently scrolling through his phone. 

Azar takes a moment to respond, a tick of hesitance that lingers between them. ‘ Amelie made me ’ is what he could say, but deep down inside of him, he knows Nick wouldn’t believe him one bit. Plus, he was never one to lie to his manager in the first place.

“It’s a personal thing.” He mutters. Hand going to the side of his face to support the weight of his arm resting under it. He tries not to catch a chance to make eye contact with Nick’s knowing gaze.

Nick’s too kind to push further however, he knows where his boundaries lie in the thin line of a friend and a manager. So he stays quiet, lets out a small hum, and offers his phone to Azar. An adorable video of his puppy rolling around in some grass.

Nick is a good friend.

♡

“Azar! You actually came!” 

Amelie, noticeably swaying side to side while holding a bottle of what seemed to be liquor, approached Azar with a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hey dude, you good?” he asked with a chuckle. Amelie’s designer clothes were rumpled and smelled of sharp vodka, but she still kept a dopey lopsided grin on her face. 

“Even better now that you’re here!” she slurred. Now that Azar noticed it, his friend was holding a bottle of literal tequila and chugging it down like a champ. 

Seeing that Azar took notice of the alcohol in his hand, she hastily flagged down a waiter who was serving elegant flutes of champagne. 

“Amy, no. I don’t wanna get hammered.” He started coldly, but that didn’t stop the absolute betrayal and heartbreak to morph on to Amelie’s face. In less than a second, the former bassist was sniffling and snorting back snot from her nose like some newborn infant.

“B-But I want you to have fun!” she whined, sucking back the tears. “You need to have fun!” Azar stood there awkwardly as Amelie sobbed into his suit while holding a half-empty bottle of tequila. Honestly, he would be wheezing his ass off right now if it wasn’t for the fact he was genuinely concerned if Amelie was actually crying or not.

“Amy, hey look--”

He was instantly cut off by the unholy wails that erupted from Amelie’s mouth. The younger woman grabbed Azar by his dress shirt and blew his tears onto it like tissue. Azar tried not to audibly groan, instead be a good friend and pat Amelie on the back reassuringly.

“Hey look, I’ll take a few shots if you just stop crying, alright?” Azar said softly in a poor attempt at being comforting.

Amelie's response was to sniffle onto Azar’s dress shirt again. The older male sighed heavily, before waving back the waiter and taking a flute of champagne and downing in a single sip.

“There,” he hissed as the alcohol went down his throat, painfully delicious. “Better now?”

Amelie’s head instantly snapped upwards to face Azar in the eye. A coy smile curled on her lips like the Cheshire cat. When Azar had realized what she’d done, Amelie was already away, snickering and laughing with her half-empty bottle. 

Damn Amelie. 

“Damn Azar, got played?”

Azar’s neck probably snapped by how fast he turned around. Deep, feminine, voice like velvet that makes men swoon? It can’t be.

“Solaria.”

Azar stood only a few feet apart from the woman. Her signature cocky smile adorning her chiseled features. Azar hated it, every single bit of it. The woman was leaning casually against the bar counter, nursing a glass of what he could only assume to be rum.

“Congratulations on the win by the way.” She chuckled into her glass, sharp canines poking through her devious knowing smile. Azar’s eyebrow twitched.

“You too, had trouble carrying all those trophies back to the car perhaps?” he coaxed back. Approaching Solaria with a confident stride and stone-cold expression. The woman didn’t even seem phased when Azar took up the spot next to her and ordered their strongest shot of liquor. 

“Not really, had some hot babe do it for me.” 

“Oh? I didn’t know you could get ladies without paying for their services.”

“Excuse you, I most definitely can get laid.”

“I never implied that. Pig.”

“You definitely were. Fire boy.”

“Fire boy? Lacking a bit of creativity there,”

“Oh shut up you fucker.”

The two artists stared at each other murderously for a moment, before breaking into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh man, It’s been a while since I’ve talked to you Solaria.” the younger laughed, with brash confidence, he took a swig of his drink and downed it until it was empty. Solaria, also laughing, followed suit.

“How ya been, Azar?” his rival asked with a toothy grin. He waved down the bartender from the other side of the counter. Putting down an order of twelve shots.

Azar shrugged, still feeling the burning liquid slide down his throat. “Decent I guess.” he replied without much thought.

The bartender returned carrying six glasses each in both hands. He set it down evenly in front of both artists without a second glance.

Azar eyed the glasses warily, his stomach urging with suspicion. He raised an eyebrow to Solaria. The woman simply laughed heartily while she lined up the shot glasses evenly between the two of them.

“A truce, to see who is the real winner of the event.” she claimed proudly, gesturing her hand above the glasses invitingly. 

Azar’s eyes flickered from the glasses, to Solaria. Who wore her queenly smile. In his eyes, Azar could see nothing but just the intention of having a friendly drinking match. 

“You're on.”

“SOLARIA! YOUR MUSIC SUCKS.” Azar yelled on the top of his lungs at Solaria, who now, lays half dead on the bar counter surrounded by an estimated eight to ten shot glasses. 

“Fuck you…” The older woman grumbled as she lazily slammed her eleventh shot onto the counter. Azar’s coat was somewhere on the floor, so now he was just dressed down in his dress shirt and slacks. He raised his twelfth glass victoriously above Solaria’s head, arching his neck back he quickly gulped down the hard liquor in one swing.

“You know what that means,” Azar proclaimed loudly, his words slurring together. “I’m the real winner.”

“Oh my, you really did a number on him.” the bartender says from behind the counter, an amused smile playing at his lips as he watches Solaria grumble and groan at the loud victory sounds Azar is making,

“Alright now lad, I think you should drink some water.” The bartender says gently to Azar, who by now, is also doubling over from the tremendous amount of alcohol. “Geez, where’s Nick when you need him…” 

While the bartender is looking around for Nick (who Azar knows by heart, is hanging out with Celestia) Azar is resting his head on the cold bar counter with the fallen Solaria as he watches the dwindling amount of celebrities commune and mingle on the dance floor.

He can make out the stupid Hawaiian button-up that Kevin wears to almost every single international event; as he monitors a small, angry teenager who is currently yelling profanities. Who he assumes is Darf, and beside Darf is an equally concerned teenager who Azar is for certain is Gina. 

He’s surrounded by all these former acquaintances yet he can't help but feel as if he knows anybody.

Better yet, if they know him .

You are never safe in the eye of the storm.

His eyes turn unfocused as he mindlessly watches everyone move without him. As they laugh without him, as they dance without him. It’s as if he’s living a distant memory, staying in one place while everything around him buzzes and oozes life and energy. He’s living in the moment yet he’s-- not.

“Amelie stop! I’m talking to Korra!”

“But Yuuurrrriiiiii-- have a drink!” 

It’s as if his tunnel vision can only see one thing, and it’s beautiful.

Maybe Azar’s just biased, maybe it's his clear favoritism for that hair, or those eyes, or those cheeks which hold dimples every single they smile. Maybe it’s his voice that catches Azar’s attention, how it sounds like yesterday. The way it laughs and giggles and hiccups.

Maybe it’s just him.

Amelie wasn’t lying when he said that he would show up, he really shouldn’t doubt the younger female next time.

It’s like a cheesy movie in real life. Azar, the lovelorn main protagonist sees a beautiful man from across the room and next thing he knows he’s struck by such a force that it off balances his entire being. But unlike the movies, they don't show the tears, or the heartbreak, or the sleepless nights wondering if they’ll ever pick up the phone and call you again. And Azar isn't the main protagonist in his story, because no one ever casts damaged goods for stars. And the beautiful man across the room is too busy being happy with his friends to ever notice him silently dying from alcohol poisoning.

But then again,

He’s here.

Yuri is here.

And isn’t that all that matters?

He’s just a couple steps away, just a sentence away, just there. In arms reach, looking jovially unaware of Azar by the bar. Jovially unaware of all the sleepless nights he’s caused, perfectly unaware of all the power he has over Azar that it’s almost terrifying.

He looks the same as he did two years ago. The same off sided hair, the same glistening eyes, the same full face smile. And Azar is exactly like he is two years ago too; hopelessly in love.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, yeah, he hopes it’s the alcohol. He gets up from Solaria’s side, on surprisingly steady feet. He begins the stride towards Yuri with nothing but liquid courage and the longing feeling in his heart, with the answer to the question he was looking for.

You are never safe in the eye of the storm, yet you are neither free. Beyond the dangerous winds and deadly hail is a world yet to be explored. A world beyond the comfort of all you know. A world that may be greater than the risk.

And Azar,

Walks into the storm.


	3. chap 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FUCK

Yuri is a singer.

A decently well-known one,

He thinks at least-- he really doesn’t care about standing.

When he first started in the industry, he already knew about the risk, high reward sentimentality. He knows how fame can destroy a person with just a lick of it. He knows that creators alike, tear themselves apart just to live up to the high standards everyone around them sets. He was aware of all of that when he first stepped into the lion's den, and he still does. 

But at the same time, the reward is worth it. Supposedly.

It’s worth the touching letters he gets from sincere fans. It’s worth the thrill of bouncing on a stage on nothing but the music he creates surrounding him, with the same hard-earned fans he earned along the way, singing with every note he creates. It’s worth every bit.

But sometimes, he wishes he never started at all.

He wishes that when he receives stalker-ish letters that cause him paranoia and unease. He wishes that when obsessive fans cause online feuds and disagreements all in his name, just for the sake of getting into a fight. He wishes that the media never constantly trailed eyes on him, that they didn’t write about him in every single article ever. He wishes that the media never stepped into his life.

Yuri is a singer,

But at the cost of that made Azar leave his life?

He wishes he never was.

There’s an award ceremony Yuri is forced to enter.

His agent calls him about it, says he’s been nominated for three awards. There’s a mask of overplayed enthusiasm undertoning it, his agent has the tone of someone saying some god awful broadway script with all the expression of a dead man. In exchange, Yuri is equally unenthusiastic when he gives his thanks for all the hard work and ethics.

His agent gives him an incredibly forced laugh, one that reminds Yuri of fish choking. 

“Anyways. I saw the stunt you pulled on twitter the other day.” His agent drops casually. 

Yuri automatically tenses by instinct. His lips pressed into a thin line, his hand curled tightly around the hem of his shirt. “What about it.”

His agent gives a tired laugh, “Your fans are clearly missing the signs of a joke.” Yuri's fear may have misinterpreted his tone for one of disappointment, making him tense more.

He tries not to let out the bottling anxiety and apprehension seep out of his voice when he replies lamely. “They didn’t know?”

“Yuri, you know what this will do to her. It will bring her tremendous amounts of attention, but with that attention will cause slander. I’m sure you're very much aware of that.”

He can feel all the anxiety in his turn into bottomless dread. Guilt instantaneously fills him to the brim, his eyes close under the stress. His hands begin to shake uncontrollably as his breath hitches and heaves. His body trembles at the thought of it.

Korra, the cute girl from the album he was listening to last week while reminiscing about before. Korra, who had such infectious passion that inspires Yuri to start the same work ethic as her. Korra, who is nothing more than a friend who happened to flirt with him in front of his million-plus fanbase, right on one of the most popular apps there is.

Korra who is now, most likely, paying the price for it.

“Did her agent contact you?” His voice wavers.

His agent sighs. “No.” he states formally like he can’t hear Yuri’s panicked and stuttering breaths through the phone. It's almost kind. “Would you like me too?”

“No.” he replies pensively. He wants to text Korra himself, he wants to apologize to the rapper as sincerely as he can for dragging her into the hell that is his fanbase. He wants to warn her for all the future threats and comments they will make in his name against her.

“Alright, besides all of that, will you be attending the event after-party?” his agent inquiries, blissfully avoiding the previous subject.

Yuri doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I will.” The thought of all his friends being in one place, drinking, and having fun gives Yuri no room for second thoughts.

“All right. I’ll update you on anything when I can.” And with that, his agent ends the call.

He practically sinks into a pile of stress when the line goes quiet. He treks over to his house’s living room and takes a seat in the recliner by the corner of the room. His big, fancy-to-some-extent house with only one person accommodating its barren insides. 

He opens his phone, and goes to twitter, already bracing himself for the barrage of tweets and mentions on his feed.

Anne I @ritsu 16hr ago

@korraalt rlly is about to get BLASTED by all the Yuri simps rn

Mr. Lovely Wap I @Never_Fallix 16hr ago

@korraalt got sum balls to flirt with him in public, honestly mad respect

Milkcrepe I @milkcrepe 15hr ago

Yall are so possessive smh, Yuri isn’t yours, calm down and don’t harass over ppl like that

Yuri’s #1 Fan I @rayaxyuri relying to @milkcrepe 16hr ago

He’s an idol!! @korraalt should've seen it coming the moment she tweeted it !! She’s just doing it for the clout!

Milkcrepe I @milkcrepe replying to @rayaxyuri 15hr ago

Seen it coming?? Girl-- lemme spell it out for you ‘celebrities are people too’ 😤 Yall are so controlling over Yuri, he can't date/flirt with whoever he wants without having his fans breathe down his neck like omg chill your 13 year old ass down

Flufffaith I @wapnocap replying to @milkcrepe 14hr ago

Omfg finally someone that understands. Yall really need to stop telling yuri who he cant and cannot date. If he likes korra then you guys should support him if u were actually his fans. If not, this is gonna end up like the entire azar situation again. Do u guys remember how sad he was? Do u want that to happen again?

Chi I @itachiiichi 14hr ago

Oh lawd, azar. What do u guys think how he’s reacting to all of this--

Cumin Squad I @ohlwadhecomin 13hr ago

JESUS THIS THREAD NEEDS TO CALM DOWN WITH AZAR. YALL THAT WAS 2 YEARS AGO THEY’RE OVER LOL

Yuri instantly closes his feed with such force, he swears he permanently damaged his screen. No, he doesn't want to see the mentions and threads that all mention the someone who he lost years ago. The someone who still worms his way into his heart on late nights and cold evenings. His late someone, famous world-renowned singer, ex-boyfriend Cinder.

Not the stage name that he gave him as a joke. Not Cinder, but rather Azar.

Cinder is just the name, not the person.

it's been so long since he's actually tried to remember what he looks like. He can make out the vaguest glimpse of- tawny eyes, and wavy red hair. His laugh, high pitched and jubilant still rings in his ears sometimes when it's quiet. It's those long pauses in his memory, where he painstakingly forced himself to forget, haunts him with their long in-betweens and haziness. 

He does not want to remember.

Remembering only causes more pain, and Yuri hates the pain.

So he forcefully makes himself forget.

He opens Korra’s contact. He types a few words before promptly deleting them and writing new ones. He does this for at least twenty minutes, his lip was an angry red from how much he had been gnawing on it in frustration. After another ten or so minutes before finally hitting the small arrow emoticon.

Yuri: hey, im sorry for all the trouble my fans are giving you. They're not like, telling you anything are they?

The small green dot beside Korra’s profile lights up, she’s online. And replies almost urgently.

Korra: hey!!! Don’t worry too much about it, they're perfectly tame :))

Yuri: Oh thank god, i saw some tweets and i got worried

Korra: yeah,, they are quite the handful ig, btw, did i make u uncomfortable with anything i tweeted ?

Yuri's eyes widen as he types his reply. His breath hitches in anticipation and well-tamed anticipation.

Yuri: no, not rlly. Why?

The speech bubble beside Korra’s profile pops up and disappears for a second. It takes at least a minute for her to respond, and the entire time was just Yuri anxiously hunched back watching the seconds pass.

Korra: ur cute yuri, and im saying that in the way friends do, not in the flirtatious way that everyone thinks i was tweeting. I didn’t mean for the flirting thing to be taken so seriously. I hope i didn't come off as misleading.

Yuri’s eyes widen even wider at that. His finger goes against his mouth as he thinks about what the female rapper just said.

Korra and Yuri were both never looking for something romantic. Korra just misunderstood Yuri’s joking reply as one of actual reciprocation, and now, she was feeling bad for supposedly leading Yuri on.

Yuri: what? You didn't mislead me at all, i thought we were just joking?

Korra: OMG THANK GOD

Korra: I WAS SO SCARED THAT YOU WERE SERIOUS I RLLY DIDNT WANT TO HURT YOU 

Korra : im so sorry about all of that!! Im glad we could clear things up! :D

Yuri : its alright, glad we could. Besides, i feel as if even if we did date, there would still be something missing, so i’d just end up hurting you instead

Their texts bounced back and forth throughout an hour. With Yuri sending Korra a bunch of cursed images for her to rate as she wrote hilarious comments about them that made Yuri sputter and wheeze his lungs out. When it was all over, and the day turned darker for the British in London. So he wished the female artist off with a quaint goodbye. But before he turned off his phone, she sent one last text.

Korra is a good friend.

Korra: and Yuri? Word of advice 

Yuri: what?

Korra: you’ll find what you're missing one day, maybe even sooner than you think.

Yuri softly chuckles at her text without an afterthought. He sends her a cute gif of a cat rolling around with the caption saying ‘goodnight!!’ before walking over to his bedroom and promptly collapsing on the bed with a ‘ thud !’. The activities of earlier now taking their toll on his body and sinking him further into the plush mattress.

He mindlessly stares at his ceiling for a while, his mind scattered and unfocused, just him, and the foreboding silence that fills his empty, one person house. In some ways, it might be lonely, and sometimes that loneliness is heart wrenching, painful when it feels like the radio silence in his head is all he can hear, overall a bad day. He has them often now. But sometimes the silence is-- comforting, just him and his messy thoughts as he stares off into some uninteresting wall or object. 

In these times of loneliness is where the gate-keeped memories he's forcefully forgotten resurface to haunt him.

Then the comfort of his thoughts hit him, the loneliness peaks.

Why didn’t he feel that way for Korra? When he replied to her flirty tweets, it seemed almost empty. No true intention, just a joke. Why could that be? Korra’s sweet, kind and bubbly person who Yuri enjoyed talking to daily. But she just didn’t have any place in his heart for her in a way that could be seen as more than just friends. So why could that? He couldn’t have just liked her for the sake of liking her?

“You’ll find what you're looking for one day, maybe sooner than you think.”

Yuri turns to the empty side of his bed, so spacious and daunting. He grabs a pillow and hugs it tightly as he slowly drifts off to sleep, with the sound of cicadas and crickets outside his window. He’s cold but doesn’t have enough energy to even turn on the heater across the room. His heart, strangely empty with a hole he never bothered to fix.

He sinks into a dreamless sleep.

He wishes that sooner would come faster.

<3

The party is just something he has to attend by obligation, not by any sense of will.

The singer is quite neutral about it honestly, he has no personal opinion over the lavish event. His face just hurts from all the smiling and waving that he had to do whenever the camera panned on him. The only time he ever did anything was to go up the stage to receive his one award. Just one, because Cinder, the rising superstar swept up both best artist awards. And the household name, Solaria, demolished everyone else by the music video category. Let’s just say, walking home with the best song was an honor by itself.

But it’s not like anybody actually attended to win the event. When they saw both powerhouses nominated, it was immediately an automatic loss. So the next best thing was the after-party.

And oh boy, when you have a bunch of A-list singers and performers all together in one penthouse in New York City? You know that not a single moment would be boring. With all of his friends that he found through networking and other formal galas, he’s safe to say that the night will not be boring nor lackluster.

He enters the doors to the lobby and enters the glass elevator with his agent beside him, who seems to be preoccupied with angrily typing on his phone. Yuri never really bothered to learn his name, he’s just a stand-in for a moral support figure that his record label assigns him. He’s nothing more than a show of diplomacy than an actual figure in his career. 

Yuri knows when they reach the penthouse suite, he can hear the electronic pop and RnB play from the outside of its gaudy doors. Loud and enigmatic, instantly a sight to behold when they enter. 

Flashing lights and disco chandeliers set the room’s fun tone. With multiple familiar faces crowding the floor and mingling amongst themselves. The smell of liquor and expensive cologne wafts around the room, almost clogging Yuri’s nose with its show of wealth and power. 

His eyes directly find Amelie, right in the middle of the dance floor doing some odd mix of tango and ballroom with Kevin. She’s laughing profusely, as he glides across the room on nimble feet with the other singer. Her energy is infectious because almost everyone around her seems to laugh and join along in her shenanigans. His face can’t help but form a smile when Amelie’s eyes meet him and give a playful wink.

“Yuri!”

Celestia loops an arm around Yuri’s neck with such a sudden force it nearly topples Yuri over. 

“Celestia!” He says with a frown, but his voice conveys his clear happiness to see his friend. “How are you?” he asks with a pout.

Celestia laughs, quiet and kind. “Alright, Alright. Congrats on best song!” She cheers loudly, gaining the attention of others around them. Yuri bashfully hides the smile that curls on his lips from his friend’s kind words. Celestia and he became good friends when Yuri first started his solo career separate from Horizon Focus, easily getting along because of their relation to Azar.

“It’s not a big deal, Solaria won most of the awards,” he grumbles, trying to avoid looking into Amelie’s exasperated gaze.

“But Yuri!” A new voice joins abruptly, Yuri instantly recognizes that faint vietnamese accent lisping over his words.

“Solaria always wins, like, everyone knows it. Winning just an award while Azar and he are in the running? A prize by itself.” Kye laughs good-naturedly before swinging a flute of champagne down. Yuri flushes again at that, it feels good to be validated amongst your equally famous peers.

“Speaking of competition, check out the bar!” Celestia interrupts excitedly. 

Azar glances over to the large indoor bar on the side of the penthouse. There sit Azar and Celestia, both jokingly hitting each other whilst they hold two shot glasses in their hands. They clink their glasses together as Yuri watches them both gulp down their drinks in a single chug. 

Celestia and Kye let out a string of guffaws and chortles as they both converse about the events in their life. Yuri is only half listening; however, his eyes occasionally can’t help but make themselves take over to the red-headed man at the bar, who’s presence is so enigmatic and charming that it demands Yuri’s attention. 

He doesn’t know how to describe it.

He tells himself not to look, forces his mind to stare at Amelie and Kye as they laugh about some whitewashed drama. But it feels like every bone in his body aches to turn his head ever so slightly to the side, just to catch the smallest glimpse of the man dressed in cladding, leaning ever so handsomely on the bar counter, nursing a glass of liquor in his hands.

He ignores the throbbing speculation, the all-consuming intuition- that maybe- if he looks back, he’ll meet his eyes.

Maybe he's just hoping for too much.

“--uri! Yuri hey!” 

His eyes flash upwards, causing his entire body to wobble over for a second. He’s quickly steadied by a hand on his arm that pulls him forward. 

“Oh, Amelie.” He says, aghast and slightly dazed. His eyes meet dark brown, looking at him worriedly. “Hello, lovely dancing you were doing earlier. Didn’t know someone could resemble a dying giraffe so much.”

Amelie’s look of concern double-takes and turns into a sour pout, she lets go of Yuri’s arm and holds his arms close to his chest. Yuri can’t help but hide the bubbling laugh that arises in his throat. He lets out a string of disarrayed giggles that make his friend frown even more.

“You know what, because of that. I refuse to hang out with you now.” she gives Yuri a sullen look while she dramatically holds her heaving chest, “you’ve wounded me so badly. I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from such a blow.”

Yuri giggles again, his cheeks blowing up as he desperately tries to contain them but fails. “Amelie, stop it.” he tries to say assertively, but he bets he’ll be taken seriously at all when he looks like a bloated chipmunk. 

Amelie sighs, she fans herself with her fans like some sort of whining damsel. “I don’t know Yuri! Whatever shall I do?.” She says in an octave higher, in a mocking impersonation of his accent.

Yuri smirks obnoxiously, as he feigns himself to Amelie’s dramatics. “Oh, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?”

Amelie put her hands on his waist jokingly and sways around, she’s at least half intoxicated.

“Let’s party!” she yells eagerly, rolling on the balls of her feet so she sways around in some solo drunk performance, this is the perfect blackmail on his friend.

And Yuri thinks about it for a moment. He hesitantly looks at Amelie’s figure with eyes filled with reluctance. It’s almost as if there’s this feigning voice telling him in the back of his head ‘ he’s watching ’ that makes Yuri’s whole body shiver.

He’s not watching , his subconscious tells himself, he doesn’t care about you .

Why would he?

“Yuri?” Amelie asks again, the worried lilt in her voice returning. Yuri immediately snaps out of it. He gives the American a wobbly smile of reassurance as he walks next to the wild partygoer.

“There’s alcohol right?” He questions tentatively, his hands fiddling with the cufflinks of his suit. Amelie’s face lights up like a child on Christmas day, it’s comically fitting for someone of her caliber. She looks so incredibly happy to just be hanging out with Yuri, and Yuri can admit that he is too. It’s been forever since they both hung out together in their solo careers.

“Wait-- you don’t like alcohol though?” She inquired, eyebrows raised suspiciously. Yuri waves his hand dismissively at the comment and prompts to start walking to the dance floor without her.

“Yuri, no wait! I’m sorry! I’ll find you all the tequila tonight, lets get wasted!” she says jovially, skipping her step as she wraps an arm around Yuri’s neck like a hook. Yuri laughs loudly, face free with mirth and excitement. He’s glad he agreed to attend the afterparty now. 

As he walks further into the dancefloor, he makes sure not to turn back and look at the man at the bar who probably isn’t even looking back.

He wants to forget about tonight.


	4. chap 3 extended i think??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what

Yuri takes one drink, it’s just a pipe of champagne he tells himself, with Amelie’s rambunctious coaxing, the one flute turns into three-- and then by the time he knows notices that he’s drunk at least half a dozen flutes of the fizzing liquid, Amelie beside him is ushering him to the dancefloor to an impromptu dance battle.

Mainly it’s just Amelie aggressively head bopping to some alternative pop while swaying her body wildly to the rhythm. She also somehow ropes Yuri into it, but at least Yuri is half sensical enough not to bump into the crowds of people who make way for them both.

Yuri swears that he hadn’t laughed this much in ages. As he and Amelie do an odd mix of tango and breakdancing, his body erupts with fits of shrieks of chuckles and giggles. It’s the type of laughter that spreads across his whole body, where his stomach lurches and cramps, and his head steers in pain from how happy he is. 

He’s so blissfully unaware of how much fun he’s having until he’s pulled aside by Celestia to take a sip of water and calm down. Amelie's beside him too, still buckling over and swaying from side to side as she waxes poetic about how much of a good friend Yuri is. 

“Man, Amy is absolutely destroyed. Glad you could hold your liquor at least Yuri.” Celestia says with an amused smile. Yuri gratefully takes the glass his friend had so kindly offered him and takes large gulps down to wash the taste of booze from his palette.

“Had to grow a tolerance whenever Amy would take us clubbing.” He snorts. Those were the days of Horizon Focus, the rising band that spread across the industry like an untameable fire. Before days of fear and unease.

“It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it then?” Celestia notes with a soft reminiscing tone. Yuri smiles into his cup.

“It has.”

Celestia is a good company, nice and timidly talkative.

“Hey, Yuri,” Celestia whispers to him. 

The fact that she’s whispering in the first place catches his attention. He raises his eyebrows and asks “What?” 

“Ok so listen,” she tries to say calmly, but all Yuri can note is the clear rising panic in Celestia’s eyes. “Don’t turn around.”

And like the smartass he is--, he turns around.

“ Yuri! ” Celestia all but shrieks loudly. But Yuri is still on the tipping line of half sober and completely drunk. So nonetheless, he still turns around. What could be so terrible that Celestia was screaming his ear off in pure terror? How bad could it be? Thought tipsy Yuri.

And oh,

That’s why.

“Hi,”

There’s something oddly poetic about the entire scenario. 

It runs like a scene from an old-timey nineties movie, played on a vintage cassette stowed away under the dust and forgotten memories. The film is barely usable, yet it still plays. With fraying edges and cuts in between footage, but it still plays. It evokes such a deep feeling within Yuri, something that's been cast away for so long that it feels as if he’d purposefully hidden it for years. With its fraying edges and cuts, the scene still plays out.

“Hey?” he says as a question. In all kindness, he wouldn’t even want to respond at all. But the liquid courage bubbling inside him unwinds the confines of all moral ambiguity and lets his mouth run.

Azar's eyes have this fort of hazy sheen covering them, unfocused. With that, Yuri can immediately tell that he’s drunk.

“It’s been a while.” The redhead says primly, the slur in his words is well hidden by how fast he talks. Yuri tilts his head to the side as if questioning him.

“It has.” Is all he replies.

They share a tense silence, with Yuri still occasionally sipping his glass of water as he waits for Azar to say more. It takes all his will to calm the mess that is his thoughts. 

Azar shifts his weight between his legs. Rolling on the balls of his feet. He keeps his hands hidden in the pockets of his slacks. He bites his lips, opens his mouth then instantly closes it. He looks lost, and Yuri can’t help but sympathize. He looks as if the words he had planned to stay are now superglued to the roof of his mouth.

So he saves them both the awkwardness and asks;

“What do you need?”

It’s plain, simple, and sharp. And it seems to do the trick. Azar looks caught off guard, left aghast. With his mouth parted slightly and eyes fully open. He looks surprised Yuri is even talking to him at all.

“I was wondering,” He pulls one of his hands out of the pockets of his trousers and extends it outwards to Yuri. “If I could ask you for a dance?”

Yuri stares at his open hand.

And almost chokes.

His mind goes into overdrive. With the sober part of him trying hard to control his facial expression so it doesn’t mirror the chaos that is his brain right now.

Don’t take his hand! Can’t you see? He’s drunk and doesn’t mean it! You’re only going to end up embarrassing yourself. You’re only going to end up hurt! The sober and rational part of his conscious screams. Flashing red lights onto Azar’s waiting figure. He considers his answer, before deciding on it. He opens his mouth to respond--

But what if he does? Something else whispers in the back of his head, it’s faint and soft, but at the same time, it sounds like the loudest voice in the room. What if you take his hand? What will happen after?

Yuri is left breathless at the thought. What will happen after?

Don’t do it! He hurt you! He’ll do it again. What shows he changed--

The screaming peaks, it gets so loud and high to the point where it becomes white noise. He wants to cover his ears, he wants his thoughts to stop. Albeit amid all the yelling and shouting of his subconscious, the soft and quaint voice returns, louder this time.

He never hurt you. They did. Now, if you want to know what happens next. Take his hand. 

The thought of the unknown fills him up with dread but at the same time, his curiosity calls through the fear. Ushering him to leap into the abyss of the undiscovered that he’s aware would drastically change everything he knows. Somehow, through all the clouded mystery, he knows that he’ll be alright by the end of all of it. The call of the unknown, the curiosity-

All makes him take Azar’s hand.

Azar looks utterly thrilled. He squeezes Yuri’s hand as if to feel that he was assuring himself that Yuri was there.

“So? Take me to dance already.” 

And Azar does, he glides them both over to the center of the dance floor. 

As if they were actually stuck in some old-timey romance movie, the Dj starts to play a slow song. 

“I have to warn you. I am a terrible dancer.” He states as he hesitantly puts his hand on Azar’s forearm. Azar lets out a low sounding chuckle, and since their bodies are pressed together by the crowd around them, Yuri is close enough to feel the heat radiating against Azar’s body.

“You can’t be that bad.” He smiles kindly at Yuri, and the smaller male can’t help but avoid his fond gaze. He doesn’t want Azar to see the rising heat that paints his skin. He’s already embarrassed enough.

They follow a slow pace, with Azar taking the lead and guiding Yuri to the soft accompanist of violins and cellos. Azar’s hand firmly and politely placed on this the crease of his back. With his other hand holding Yuri’s as he sways them around the room. He has to admit, he sinks into the tender hold of Azar’s weight as he tries desperately not to trip on his own feet.

Contrary to popular belief; Yuri isn’t good at everything, as much as his fans try to deny it. One of those things is dancing. The closest thing he can get to a somewhat decent flow of movements is excitedly jumping on stage when the beat drops during a concert. People normally just say he gets hyper and bounces across the stage but in reality, it’s just his poor mix of leg and eye coordination. 

Right now, he’s trying not to trip on his own feet. Maybe it’s just genetics that makes him such a disaster on the dance floor. Maybe it’s the alcohol that makes his already hazardous moves even more terrible than they already are. Maybe it’s the way he’s so hyper-focused on his feet that he doesn’t even notice that he’s trailing off to the edge of the floor.

He doesn’t even know he’s falling until Azar catches him.

Metaphorically of course. 

He lets out a gasp, his feet lose their balance and he’s cusping over the edge. But before his body can make the harsh impact, a strong force pulls him upwards, with an alarming amount of strength that it almost topples him over. 

“I got you.”

You got me.

Azar has a look of panic etched into his chiseled features as he holds Yuri’s hand tightly in his. He eyes Yuri’s shocked expression before quickly letting go of his tight hold, averting his eyes so he can hide the poorly veiled dusty pink that spreads across his cheeks.

They stare at each other for a second. Before bursting into a fit of drunken giggles. The unconscious smile on Yuri’s face morphs into a beaming grin as he hiccups and giggles.

“Oh my god--” Azar says in between his kettle like wheezes. “You’re actually bad ” 

Yuri tries to look offended but he can’t even keep off the dorky smile off his face. “Shut up! I told you I wasn’t the best.”

Azar laughs even harder at that, “Yeah but you tripped over- over your own feet.” 

Yuri pouts, but the corner of his lips curl into the smallest of smiles. 

“Yeah yeah I did-- stop hacking out a lung now.” He crosses his arms, “You said you wanted to dance with me, not laugh.”

Yuri can see it. The way Azar's eyes go soft and tender, how his loud guffaws turn into light, breezy chuckles. How he takes Yuri by the waist and glides them back onto the center and gently creases the inside of Yuri’s hand with his thumb.

He’s finding out all these things he’s long forgotten, like that old cassette tape.

“I did ask you to dance with me, I’m no coward.” He remarks proudly while turning Yuri to the side and carefully dipping his back. 

“Just focus on me.”

Azar extends his arm to spin Yuri, then closes them back down to bring the smaller man back into his delicate embrace. Azar holds Yuri like he’s porcelain. Gentle with the way he turns and spins him. Always holding his waist so he doesn’t trip and fall again. All at the same time, he looks at Yuri as if he was the only person in the room.

He only focuses on Azar.

And notices so many things,

He stares into his light, marigold eyes. They feel so familiar to him, looking at them just makes Yuri feel like he was coming home to a place he had long left. How they glimmer and gleam like unpolished gemstones that men like him cannot fathom their price. They look at him so earnestly that Yuri feels unworthy under his gaze.

How the harsh neon lights of the dance floor paint his wavy blonde hair in their bright colors. How the spotlights outline the curves of his face, and draw out their features, making it appear like he was glowing. 

He notices the faintest speckles of freckles on his nose and cheeks. How they’re slowly showing through the concealer he was wearing. He silently counts them, inside he knows all of them by heart. He’s counted them before, on slow days where they lie in each other’s presence, basking in the comfort of one another. 

His touch lingers on his skin, even through the material of his clothing he can feel the heat radiating off his calloused fingertips. How he soothes the static under Yuri’s skin with all but his wavering caresses. He’s warm.

He notices all these things, all these wonderful things about him. Like the old cassette tape hidden under all the dust and forgotten memories. Yuri is slowly fixing it’s fraying edges and filling in its gaps.

He's utterly entranced, enamored by this man in front of him. This man who feels so warm and radiant, who're hands cradle him like they're the most precious thing in the world. Who're eyes are splattered colors of yellow and tawny, and with cheeks dusted with stardust. This man who feels like returning to a home Yuri thought he would never go back to. This man who's like that old forgotten cassette tape, damaged and forgotten yet fixable.

And Yuri wouldn’t have him any other way.

It feels nostalgic, to be waltzing with him to the slow hum of music in a crowded room filled with a-list celebrities. 

It feels so right.

He’s incredibly glad he took his hand.

He doesn’t blame it on the alcohol anymore, it’s all but his own heart, laid beautifully in front of him as he lets down his walls and let's Azar in.

And when Azar, looks at him as if he’s asking permission. Yuri looks back. And when Azar slowly cranes his neck down for Yuri, and Yuri tip toes upwards to meet awaiting lips-

And when Azar kisses him. He lets him.

And it feels like the most normal thing in the world.

His kisses burn, like a disinfectant to the closed wounds he’s now reopening. They’re painstakingly gentle, soft, and light. With Yuri’s chapped lips pressed firmly against Azar’s softer ones. He can feel Azar’s hands crawl up to his shoulder blades, holding him steady as they kiss. 

They pull away, both panting lightly as they stare into each other eyes. Questioning their next step.

Azar looks almost desperate, his tone pleading when he coaxes “Yuri--”

He doesn’t have time to finish. Yuri pulls him back into it. He kisses him harder this time, hoping to convey all his deep-buried feelings into it. 

They feel like fire, all-consuming, and passionate. With its heat warming his cold heart.

Like maelstroms, sucking him in further and further until he runs out of the air and starts to drown in what seems like a bottomless pit of feelings that begin to resurface. Yuri wants more-- he wants to feel.

Azar sinks into the kiss, he sighs into it. His arms circling Yuri’s waist. The need to push their bodies closer together is almost painful. He wants to feel the warmth radiating off Azar, he wants to make up for all the lost time they have.

When they break apart again, they’re both gasping for air. Yuri relishes in the sight of Azar’s adorably flushed face and slightly red lips. It only drives Yuri’s wanting to the point of desire. So he takes advantage of his height to trail kisses from the redhead’s freckled cheeks to his jawline. Making sure to peck every place he had missed for the past 2 years.

He wants to memorize every single crook and crevice there is to him. He wants to adore his eyes and stare into them on days on end. He wants to peck every individual freckle on his face.

He wants so ferociously that it scares him.

Let me be selfish, the small voice cries. Yuri realizes it was never the rational part of him, rather, the longing feeling in his heart that finally knocked some sense into him.

Let me be selfish.

When Azar lets out a small whine when his mouth separates from his skin. He looks down at Yuri with a look that Yuri can’t decipher. But he doesn’t need to know, the hands trailing down his back conveys it all.

“Are you--”

“My hotel is only a minute away.” 

Azar quirks his lips into one of the most attractive grins that Yuri’s ever seen. It makes him blush more than the passionate make out that they just had a second ago. 

Azar takes his hand, as they make their way out of the crowds of people and into the elevator. Even in some way, Yuri just wants to touch the singer. Even if it’s just him squeezing his hand.

They make their way outside the building in hurried steps. Yuri leads them both to the side of the road where they can easily catch an oncoming cab. As they both impatiently await the arrival of the yellow car, something flashes in his face.

Snap!

Before Yuri can see the face of the person holding the camera, the cab slows down by the curb and Azar is ushering them both inside. 

He knows he should be worried, absolutely terrified. But he just can’t bring himself to care right now. Not when he’s fumbling with the keycard to his hotel room, not when he and Azar topple on top of his pristine and untouched bed, not when Azar’s face is pressed fervently against Yuri’s. 

He’s too busy loving Azar right now to care about anything else.

Wait. 

His eyes snap open. He’s instantly filled with something other than the unbearable desire he has right now. It’s a sudden realization, a moment where the entire world freezes.

At this moment, when he’s slowly removing the layers of clothing off their bodies. When he can feel Azar’s hot breaths against his as he melts into his hold. When it’s just them, in this hotel bed on nothing but liquor and overly suppressed feelings. When it’s Yuri, putting down all his defenses and laying out his bruised heart to this equally bruised man who he loves.

Azar.

He loves Azar.

He loves-

Fuck.


End file.
